


If Love Is The Answer, You're Home

by steven_damnkos



Category: Daft Punk
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 07:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steven_damnkos/pseuds/steven_damnkos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Thomas's birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Love Is The Answer, You're Home

**Author's Note:**

> Dumb fluffy birthday fic written in a state of sleep deprivation. I tried to do a thing with the perspective. All mistakes are mine all French is Jules's.

Warmth. The soft brush of Guy-Man's lips and hair across your chest. His weight settling across your hips.  
"You're up early..." you tease sleepily.  
"Go to bed late, old man?" He quips back. The snort cuts off your yawn, making you laugh.  
"Old man? I don't think an old man could have pulled off last night's performance." You sit up, shifting him in your lap, noting that yeah, your back hurts more than it did yesterday, and an offhand glance at the mirror across the room reminds you that you certainly don't have the same hair you did at twenty-one. You frown a bit, thinking Guy-Man might be on to something with his "old man" schtick.  
Guy-Man's head tilts oh-so-adorably to the side, his waves brushing his shoulder. "Why are you frowning? I was kidding about all that old man stuff." He drops a kiss to your shoulder before laying his head on it. He bats his baby blues up at you, pulling the innocent act.  
You poke that one spot between his ribs, causing him to snort and giggle and lose all dignity.  
"I think you were right about that. We're not twenty anymore, climbing the Eiffel Tower at two am or living off coffee and cigarettes while rolling in filthy clubs." You kiss his forehead, turn and rest your chin against his head. "I really am an old man..." You sigh and slowly develop the thousand yard stare, remembering when you almost got hit by a truck because you were stoned, and when you almost lost the hearing in your right ear from fifteen years of heavy bass at unholy volumes. You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't hear Guy-Man speak, but feel his deep voice against your skin.  
"Merde, Thomas. Your age is the last thing I'm worried about. I'm older than you, idiot." He pulls back and stares up at you. With a half-cocked smirk and another "merde", he's kissing you.  
He's kissing you like you're his air, like you're his entire reason for life. Only then, do you realize you are. You've been inseparable since high school, it's always been Thomas and Guy-Man. You are his air. You are his life. You have been there for each other for the better part of twenty years. The love you have for him will never be second to anything, not even music.  
You're kissing him back eagerly, devouring those pouty, perfect lips until he's breathless, gasping. His eyes are wide, full of love; adoration even.  
His voice takes on that breathy sound, the one you love so much. "Thomas?"  
You smile. "Oui, Guillaume?"  
"Happy birthday, idiot. Je t'adore."  
You kiss him softly. "Toujours."

**Author's Note:**

> I tried. There was formatting but ao3 ate it.


End file.
